Orange is NOT My New Black

I know it has been a while since you have heard from me. I do apologize. But if you follow my blog, you would have known that I have been in the big house recently for murder.

They have finally released me on good behavior. I know to you humans, it has only been about two short weeks that I have been jailed, but in dog years, that equals about two years.

Thank goodness I am out. Orange just wasn’t my color, and that crap they were feeding me in there was literal dog food –  No, not the high end kibble I am used to. It was giving me some serious digestive problems, if you know what I mean. And for some of you that are kind of slow on grasping things, the food in there gave me the serious shits… Oh, yea, I also learned that word in there. No one says poop or even crap. No, in there you have to seem tough and bad to the bone, or you just won’t make it.

While I was in there, I also got some ink. Yea, my cell mate Butch knew a guy named Spike – a real artistic fellow. I’m not sure how he got the tools to give me the tattoo. I think he said something about keistering it in from the outside. Not sure what that means, but it seemed pretty sanitary, and Spike seemed like a gentle soul, so I let him go for it. He did have a tear drop tattoo coming down from his right eye. I figured that meant he was a softy, so him holding a needle to my body, really didn’t phase me.

Don’t worry, I did get something tasteful. I got the typical tough guy tattoo – you know the word “MOM” written in bold inside a heart. I did get a few spikes added around the heart. Needed to be a little bit manly so that no one would dare to mess with me in there. 1. Because they know I have a mom waiting on me back home and 2. Because they see those spikes and they know I mean business. Plus, the spikes were added for free. It is kind of Spike’s signature for every tattoo he does. How else do you think he got that nickname. Well, I also heard a rumor that he shanked people on the street with spikes, but I try not to think about people in here like that. Otherwise, you would probably never leave the cell due to fear.

I also took some classes in my spare time. I wanted to come out more educated. I took an Algebra I class just because I had nothing better to do on Mondays at 3 pm, and I also threw in a Spanish class on Wednesdays. I mean Spanish is a growing language in our country. Taco Bells are popping up everywhere these days, so I wanted to be able to go in there and order with confidence. It was also because I was obsessed with that new Spanish Justin Beiber song, and I wanted to know what the heck he was saying. Let’s just say, that song is kind of dirty. Definitely not something I am going to go home and share with my mother.

I also learned to play some serious hoops. Like the NBA has nothing on the basketball players that prison has. In fact, I think in order to be successful in the NBA, the players need to spend some time on the inside and learn how to actually play the game. I mean, Lebron James is okay, but he couldn’t even compete with the guy we call “Three Point Joe.”

And although I have evolved as a dog by being in prison, I am ready to be out in the real world again. I can’t wait to cuddle with my mom – I will probably wait  a little bit to show her the tattoo. Although, I might want to show her sooner than later, because I do have a weird, burning rash forming around it.

I also can’t wait to sink my teeth into some Fat Angelo’s pizza. Yea, I’ve been having dreams about it every night. I actually think that will be the first thing I request upon my arrival home.

Finally, I just can’t wait to finally chase some serious tail. I know I am a good looking canine, but once you get that “bad boy” image, you pretty much become irresistible to the opposite sex. Plus I can whisper a little Justin Beiber Spanish in their ears: Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito. Firmo en las paredes de tu laberinto.Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito (And that’s just a taste). If you want to know what that little line means, Google translate it, but do not tell my mom I am saying things like that. However, I know that will really get the ladies running in my direction.

So yea, you should be hearing more from me now since I am out of the big house. I am still on parole for another year, so I can’t kill any more birds or even try to attack any more cats until then, but I still can blog all I want.

I know you’ve all missed me. But I am back, and this time, I am not going anywhere!

 

 

Making a Murderer : Canine Edition 

I’m serving 25 years to life.


(My mug shot didn’t turn out the best) 

After ten minutes of questioning, they found me guilty on two counts of second degree murder. Man, that sounds bad, but please hear me out. Yes, I killed, but it was all in self defense – it was all to protect my family.

The first came about a year ago. The intruder was in my back yard, lurking around. He was stalking me and my mother. He would not leave our yard, no matter how much I growled and barked.

I told Marlee to go in the house and lock all the doors and windows. I didn’t want this danger getting anywhere near my mom. I also didn’t want her to see what I was about to do. At that moment, I became the man of the house, and my job was to protect her.

A few minutes went by…

Marlee peeped out the upstairs window, and could not see me or the stalker. In a panic, she bolted down the stairs and whipped open the back door. And there I stood – the blood was on my paws. And the stalker, well let’s just say he wouldn’t be bothering us anymore.

Marlee could not believe what I had done. She looked around to make sure no one was looking, grabbed a shovel, and took care of the dead body. So I guess you could say, she was an accomplice to murder, but of course, I would never do that to her. When I was questioned, I said it was self defense and Marlee was taking a nap the whole time. That investigation remained ongoing until recently.

The second time happened earlier this week. I was in the back yard again, enjoying some sunshine. Marlee was in the house, doing some laundry and house cleaning. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something perched on the chair, staring in the backdoor window. He was trying to break in.

I quietly stood up and tip-toed towards the porch, but as soon as I put one paw on the step, the intruder cocked his head in my direction. He tried to run – he thought he was going to get away with trying to break into my house.

Well that didn’t happen.

Marlee came outside ten minutes later, to bring me inside for dinner. She found me  standing overtop a dead body. He got what was coming to him, but of course Marlee panicked. She once again grabbed a shovel and hid the body for me. I guess you could say we are a modern day Norman and Norma Bates.

This time, the nosy neighbor watched it all go down. She called the police, and I was cuffed, questioned, paw printed, and locked away for that murder, and then soon after, for the other murder case that was still open.

It has been ruff, being on the inside. You only get one meal a day, and it’s Old Roy -YUCK! They are trying to poison us. You do not get any Bark-Boxes delivered once a month. The only toy you get to play with, is a cat stuffed animal that is missing its tail and one of its eyes, because every dog in the joint goes after it. Oh, and I’ve quickly learned to not drop my kibble in the shower, if you know what I mean. There are some un-fixed dogs in there, who like to thrust.

So yea, it has been pretty hard. I am trying to get out on good behavior. But honestly, I should never have been put in there to begin with, after all, those dang birds had it coming to them. Plus I’m a gentle soul. I only go after something if they are a threat to my mom. So yea, it’s pretty unfair.

Catch my story next month on Netflix, where you can hear all sides of the story, and see who you believe. Making a Murderer : The Canine Edition, coming to Netflix on June 24th. Tune in.

 

 

 

The Slobbery War of 2017

I’ve went to war the past couple of days. I’ve strapped on my uniform of thick black and white fur, my boots of white hair, and my weapons of razor sharp teeth and a bark that can deafen the enemy from two miles away. No, my bark is not worse than my bite – they are in fact equal, so I would not cross me. I’ve went to war to protect my rights of walking and I’ve went to war to defend my mother’s honor and to ensure her safety. I know, I am so heroic, but you can save the applause till the end of my ‘tail.’

The war was bad. The war was ugly. The war was slobbery and even bloody. I am drained physically, mentally, and emotionally, but that is nothing that a piece of cheese, a gulp of water, and a nice back rub won’t fix. I went to war because I had to.

Who was this war against, you ask. Well this war was against the pets that live on  Devan Avenue – The stray cats that sneak in to other peoples’ yards, without them knowing, and the dogs that run wild, never being tied back with a leash or blocked in with a fence. This is one war that your kids will read about in History class, about a decade from now, and they will learn that I was truly heroic.

So, let’s take it back to two days ago, when this war began. Marlee and me were taking our nightly walk – same route, same scenery. I had always noticed this stray cat. It was always crouched down, eyeing us up in the wrong way. It had a smell of garbage, a glare of hostility, and a tail of terror. This cat’s tail looked as if it had been struck by lightening. Maybe it was that way because this cat had been to war before. I figured that had to be it, and that this feline should not be and could not be trusted.

I had let the cat do its thing for about two weeks, but this day, I had had enough. He was not going to look at me or my mom in anger any longer. This world needed less hatred, and I was going to do anything I needed to, to make this world a safer and more loving place. I know what you’re thinking – that is honorable.

The cat was in someone’s yard – a yard that it did not belong to. So when my mom got distracted with a lady walking past her saying “hello,” I took the plunge. I went full force after the cat. The fangs were out, the slobber was flying, and the claws were raging. I got a few swats and maybe even a few nips in, but the cat was an equal competitor. He took his paw of knives, and drug it across my face. I was left with scratches, cuts, and blood. The cat was still alive, but trust me, this story would have ended differently, if my mom didn’t rip me away from the enemy.

You might think I lost that battle, but I can ensure you, that I didn’t . The next day, I walked right past that cat with my head held high in the air, and the cat, well he cowered down in fear and went the opposite direction. He would not bother me or my mom anymore, and he would think twice before judging others with his glare of hostility. I taught that cat a lesson. Yes, I got a few bumps and bruises out of it, but what true war hero doesn’t.

So that takes us to the next day, when two enemies of the canine variety attacked. Marlee and me were walking on the road, trying to avoid confrontation. I guess you could say, I was trying to wave the white flag of surrender. However, these dogs wouldn’t allow it.

Without being tied down or fenced in, and without being watched by the owner, the first dog ran on to the road at us. At first it started harmlessly sniffing me, but it soon turned to rage. It lunged at me with his teeth snarling. He swatted at me with his paw. I had no choice but to defend myself. We both ended up on our hind legs, in a fist fight. He pushed me over on to my back, but I jumped right back up. I would have gotten a flip in myself, if the owner of the other dog didn’t finally control his canine and drag him away from Marlee and me, apologizing to us in the process.

It wasn’t even five steps later, that another dog, a German Shepherd, came running at Marlee full force, with his fangs out and growling uncontrollably. Marlee was terrified. She thought she was about to be attacked. She stood completely still on the road, paralyzed by fear. She pulled me close and told me to sit down. I obeyed, but I knew if that dog came any closer to Marlee, that I would have to defend her. It was my job to keep her safe. All I could do in that moment was growl back and show the dog my teeth. I wanted him to know that I would do anything to protect myself and my mom.

Marlee started screaming. She yelled, “Please someone get this dog. It’s going to attack me!” The dog’s owner finally came out of the house and grabbed the dog, once again apologizing. However, it was too late. Marlee was not physically harmed, but she was scared, and that was not okay with me.

We walked back to the house, and she started crying. Not only was she shaken up because of what had almost happened, but she felt like everything that had happened the past two days were her fault.

I licked her face, to ensure her, it was not her. She was the best owner a dog could want.

We took away three lessons from these events. 1) Always make sure your dog is leashed, fenced in, or controlled. If they are not, they could run out and attack an innocent dog or human just trying to harmlessly take a walk. Leash laws in Pennsylvania are there for a reason. 2) If a dog runs out at you, try and stay calm. I know it is difficult, but it will help to calm the situation down. 3) We obviously need to find another walking route. It’s unfortunate, but has to be done. I don’t want myself or my mom getting hurt by another animal, and when I feel threatened and want to protect Marlee, I am too big and too strong for her to pull back easily.

So yea, it has been an eventful two days.

I went to war. I got bloody. I got hurt, but I also protected my mom. After all, that is my job, and I would go to war with any animal to ensure her safety.

Now, you may cue the applause.

 

 

He Didn’t Need His Eyes to Love Me. 

My owner could not see me, but he could feel me. 

He could feel me pull him forward when the pedestrian walk light turned on to cross the street. He could feel me pull him left, to head over to his favorite coffee shop for his morning bagel and latte. He could feel me pull him right, when it was time to go back home. 

I was my master’s eyes. He relied on me to keep him safe. To direct his way. To make sure he got from place to place on time and unharmed. It was a tough job, but I was glad to do it.

However, I wasn’t only there for guidance, I was there to comfort. I was there to show him love and dedication also. 

So once again I say : my owner could not see me, but he could feel me. 

He could feel my soft fur run under his palms and fingertips as he stroked me from the bed, as he prepared to end his day. He could feel my tender licks, as I kissed his cheek or hand to let him know I was around if he needed me. He could feel my wagging tail to ensure him that I was content being with him and happy to help him. 

After all, I wasn’t just there for guidance, although that was my main job. I was there to be his companion – to be his friend. I was there for him to rely on. I was there to show him love. 

To me, there was nothing different about my master. No, he could not see me with his eyes, but he could touch me with his hands. He could kiss me with his lips. He could sooth me with his voice. He could see me with his soul. He didn’t need his eyes to love me. 

I wasn’t just there to guide him. I was there to show him unconditional love, and in return, I got unconditional love back. 

Today is National Guide Dog Day. Isn’t it amazing that a canine is someone that can guide a blind person through every turn of their life. They are truly spectacular creatures. 

Happy National Guide Dog Day! Your jobs are tough, but you are appreciated and loved. 

Two Years.

Today is my adopt-a-versary. My gotcha day. However, I’m sure you all knew that already. I’m sure you had it marked in your calendars since last year. I mean, it isn’t as big as Martin Luther King Day or Christmas, but come on people, it’s pretty high up there. At least top five. Oh and by the way, I am still waiting on the gifts and cake to start rolling in.
So of course there had to be a blog post about this monumental holiday. But, instead of being all sappy, and making everyone cry hysterically with how sweet and corny I can be, I decided to make everyone slightly chuckle instead. Yes, I do enjoy a good laugh.

A lot has changed in two years. I’ve gotten better looking (if that is even possible), more witty (of course), a little more tender (don’t tell anyone I said that; I don’t want to ruin my bad-ass image), and more comfortable and content with life. Let’s face it, my life is way better than yours. My mom and dad are way cooler than yours. In general, everything about my life is pretty amazing. Well most things are amazing – we still have that whole bath situation to sort out.

Anyway, I figured I would compile a list of 15, because that seems to be a good number. A list of the 15 things I have learned in my two years of being adopted. So continue on…

  1. All dogs literally hate the mailman. This is not just true in movies. It is very accurate in real life. I think they are some sort of terrorist, or maybe they just smell like bacon. I haven’t decided yet. Either way, I would bite my mailman’s arm off if I was loose when they arrived.
  2. Pretending you’re scared of getting your nails trimmed at Pet Smart is the best way to get attention, from both your parents and strangers. All you have to do is start whining slightly and add in a little tremble for extra effect, and a second groomer will just come over to you, just to hug you until it is over. Come on people, I am not that big of a baby. I just want the extra love. Plus, your mom and dad will feel so guilty afterwards, that you will either get a bone or a vanilla ice cream dish. It’s a win-win.
  3. Human food is way better than dog food, and if you give the dopey-eyed look long enough, you will definitely get some of your human’s dinner. And you know what I think – I think that chocolate isn’t actually toxic to us dogs. I think humans just tell you that so they don’t have to share.
  4. No matter how hard you beg, or how many times you put it on your Santa list, you will never get out of getting a bath. I will forever hate this time of the month, but shaking all of my wet, dog fur onto my dad afterwards, makes it semi tolerable. 
  5. Lounging on the couch is only acceptable when I am at my grandparents’ house or dad is not home. But as soon as Marlee gets the call that Zach is heading home from work, I jump off the couch and the lint roller comes out. Shhh, don’t tell Zach our secret. 
  6. Squeaky toys are the best. I used to never be into toys, but after getting the BarkBox every month, I have grown to love all toys. I will sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and start squeaking and tossing my toy up in the air. It’s mostly for my personal enjoyment, but I also get a kick out of watching mom and dad wake up wondering what the heck is going on.
  7. You feel like a new man every time you take a poop. I guess it is like a load taken off of you – pun intended. But seriously, every time I relieve myself, I bolt into the house full force and start throwing my toys all over the living room. Maybe it’s my way of telling Marlee there is a fresh pile for her to clean up.
  8. When you are named after your dad’s favorite college basketball team, you will be forced to wear a t-shirt every game for good luck. I just learn to accept it. And warning, there will be family photos involved.
  9. I know I am not supposed to lay on the mattress when the bedding is being washed, but that never stops me. Marlee loves it when my black fur gets all the over the white mattress pad.
  10. Cuddling with Marlee and Zach at night is the best part of my day. Zach makes a great pillow, full of fluff, and Marlee makes the best snuggler.
  11. Running away, even as just a game, isn’t worth it. When I first was adopted, I used to get loose and have Zach and Marlee chase me for hours. Now, if I get loose, I just lay down on the grass in defeat and wait for them to come grab me. Mostly because life anywhere else wouldn’t be as great as the life I have with them, and partially because Zach spanks hard.
  12. I will forever be between the ages of 4-6. Marlee and Zach do not know my exact age, so anytime they are asked, they always say 4-6 years old. They have been saying that for two years now. I guess I am like Edward Cullens and won’t ever age.
  13. Barking at any stranger or dog that walks past me is my favorite thing. I get a kick out of watching them jump a little.
  14. Sometimes all you need to make the day better is a little bit of porch sitting with the family. Plus when you’re out there at the front of the house, you feel like the King of the neighborhood. 
  15. Being with a family, who loves you as much as Marlee and Zach love me, is pretty awesome.

So yea, life for the past two years has been nothing short of fantastic. I am one lucky dog. I am loved. Everything is okay in my world, well except for the bath situation, but like I said before, I don’t think that is changing anytime soon.

Now, I am going to enjoy the Burger King cheeseburger meal that I got for dinner, while wearing my crown, because I am the King.
 

Air-Bagging, Tea-Bagging, Poop-Bagging 

Today, I want to take you back to the first day we brought Duke home. Well actually, I want to take you back to the first 30 minutes we brought Duke home. 

No, this is not a sappy, lovey dovey post. This post, my friends, is all about humor and a whole lot of laughter. And after my last post, the mood could be lightened up a bit. 

We will start with the car ride home. Oh, what an interesting car ride that was. As you all know from past posts, as well as Instagram pictures, Duke absolutely loves car rides. He literally leaps in the air with joy every time the word car ride is uttered. 

Well, that first car ride home was something special and was slightly unique to every other car ride we have experienced since then. 

Duke naturally was nervous being in a car, going to an unfamiliar place, with people he had just met. We had Zach driving my car, dog father Ben in the front seat, and I was of course in the back, gushing over the fact that I was officially bringing a dog of my own home. 

Well, I guess Duke got tired of being gushed over, and decided it would be a great idea to jump over top the passenger seat head rest, right on to Ben’s lap, all while Zach was driving. A possible disaster in the making. I knew Duke was a little leery about us, but I didn’t think he had a car hijac and murder planned for the first day. Anyway, lucky for us, no accident happened. 

He stayed on Ben’s lap for about 5 minutes, before deciding, he wanted to come back to the back with me. Without warning, he leaped over Ben’s head and the head rest to get back. In mid air, Duke’s newly snipped, stitched, and swelled equipment drug right across Ben’s face and forehead. I bet he never thought he would be tea-bagged by a canine in his lifetime. 

Zach and I busted out laughing, while Ben was choking over the doggy pubes that he had swallowed. He didn’t find it as funny.  

After a 20 minute car ride full of tea-bags and almost some air bags, we finally pulled into our apartment complex. 

We took Duke inside the house, and then made another trip out to the car to bring the rest of the stuff inside. However, I forgot to fully latch the screen door. Next thing we know, Duke busted out of the door, and ran full force down the road. 

I just stood in shock, crying by the car. Like, I’m talking, Kim Kardashian ugly tears. I thought that Duke was going to run away or get hit by a car, literally 30 minutes after I had signed the adoption papers. Up until this point, I have not told too many people about this incident. I didn’t want people thinking I was a bad mother. 

Anyway, Zach dropped everything from his hands and started bolting in the direction that Duke ran. After I pulled myself together, I followed behind. Let me tell you, I was not in shape to be chasing full force after a dog. And I didn’t have my inhaler with me. 

Finally, Duke was in sight. He was standing under a tree. Zach ran over to him, only to have Duke run faster away again. We soon found out that Duke thought it was some kind of game. He got a lot of enjoyment out of watching us run like amateur track stars after him, only to start huffing and puffing uncontrollably. 

So this sherade continued for a solid 10 minutes. Finally, we saw Duke under yet another tree. This time when we approached him, he did not move. Only because he was squatted down in poop position. Hey, I guess he wanted some privacy. I don’t blame him. Don’t worry, we cleaned it up with our new blue poop bags. 

Zach let him finish his “business,” before grabbing him by the collar and leading him home. 

Yes, he did get scolded by Zach. And yes, as you can probably guess, he got hugged and kissed by me. What can I say, I was emotional.  

The mixed reactions to him running away is probably why it happened again. Not one more time, but three or four more times. Once, when Zach was in nothing but his work socks. 

But, we will save that tale for a different day. 

Stressed, Blessed, and Dog Obsessed

Awhile back, I wrote a blog post talking about the differences between being a dog lover and dog owner. Remember that one? If not, click here to read up.

Anyway, I went from being a dog lover, to being a dog owner, to now being dog obsessed. I know I am not the only dog obsessed dog owner out there, so don’t judge me. And if you’re not sure if you have crossed the line into dog obsessed territory, well I will lay a few examples out there for comparison. So after reading through the list below, I know many of you will most likely shake your head silently in agreement. Don’t worry, you don’t have to admit out loud that you are as dog crazy as I am. Although, I am sure people already can tell.

How to tell if your dog obsessed:

  1. If you catch yourself holding full conversations with your dog. I do this pretty much everyday. But I figure, it’s better than talking to yourself. Quite frankly, it’s better than talking to most humans. They are great listeners, and rarely ever talk back.
  2. If you spend a great deal of time snapping pictures of your canine friend, waiting to capture the perfect shot to share. A great deal of my camera roll is taken up by pictures of Duke. But hey, when I am away at work and start to miss him, I always have cute pictures to ‘oohhh’ and ‘ahhh’ at, and of course show to other people, while proclaiming how my dog is the cutest creature in the world.
  3. If you have an Instagram account for your dog. After all, your own Instagram account, where every other picture is already your dog, is simply not enough. Plus you have to get your canine out in the social media world meeting new animals. Trust me, there are thousands of dog Instagram accounts, so don’t feel bad.
  4. If the only stuff people tag you in on Facebook are dog related. I figure, with all the political crap and negativity drifting around out there, everyone can use a little dog cuteness on their newsfeed. So keep the dog posts coming.
  5. If you budget $30 every month, just to ensure you have enough money for your dog’s monthly Bark Box. But hey, it’s not only fun for your dog, but it is also something exciting for you to look forward to.
  6. If you bring your dog up in conversation at least twice a day. Because what else do you have to talk about that is as important as your dog? Exactly…NOTHING!
  7. If you refer to your dog as your “furry child.” Nothing wrong with that. They are a vital member of the family.
  8. If you feel slight guilt every time you leave your dog for work or to go out to dinner. After all, you are their source of happiness, so when you’re gone, they are just sad, lonely, and depressed. So try not to spend too much time out on the town.
  9. If you own cell phone cases, coffee travel mugs, blankets, portraits, or apparel with your dog showcased on it. Hold on, before we start to judge me, I do not have all the stuff listed above – only some. But hey, it can be good conversation starters.
  10. If you are most content just chilling on the couch all day with your dog, while sharing a bowl of Velveeta or plate of French Fries. After all, nothing bad can happen and your day can’t go sour if you are just curled up, loving your fluffy companion all day.
  11. And the final one of this post : If you spend time during  your day writing a blog post on a dog blog explaining to the world why you are dog obsessed. Ummm….guilty.

So I am sure there are other points that can be included on this list, but I don’t have all that time to spend writing them. I gave you a good starting point. If there are any I missed, that you would like to share, please comment below.

But right now I am going to have to say goodbye. I have a dog to pay attention to.